


Bones Dry

by Kitty_Redheart



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Family Shenanigans, General Jackassery, M/M, Water Guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9337772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_Redheart/pseuds/Kitty_Redheart
Summary: Jim devises the most-incredibly-genius-plan-ever-to-exist to raise morale ship-wide. A certain doctor is not so happy with the results.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I needed a break from 100 DMMY. Plus Star Trek as hijacked my life. Like I can't believe this fandom is so extensive. I love it. So here's my first fic, hopefully it's funny and enjoyable. Comments are always welcome!

Jim didn’t know whether to be impressed or slightly intimidated. Out of all the possible outcomes of his little activity, he had not been expecting _this_. He’d devised up a morale-building ship-wide water gun fight to ease the tension of his crew after the hellish past two weeks. Everything that could’ve gone wrong—besides losing a crew-member—went wrong. He’d been taken hostage, the warp drive had been touch-and-go for a while with the imminent threat of exploding looming over the engineers’ heads, a virus had swept through the science department and left a skeleton crew to man the ship during three different firefights with Klingons, Spock had almost been roasted alive, and Chekov had become the king’s favorite pet before they had been able to convince the inhabitants of the new planet that they were harmless explorers and with the Federation. All in all, it had been exceedingly tiresome, but for his CMO, his blood pressure had surely been through the roof and having not slept more than four hours less often than even Jim had, the missions had been overwhelmingly brutal. Hell, Bones had holed himself up in Spock’s quarters for two days and reemerged only after Spock had insisted that he eat something instead of sleep.

Now, Jim didn’t particularly mind that Bones preferred Spock’s quarters to either his own or Jim’s, but not seeing more than the tuft of brown messy hair as he and Spock had played chess in the overly warm room had been worrisome to say the least. Even when Jim managed to slip into bed with the other two, he’d rolled out not soon after because it was as hot as an oven in Spock’s quarters. So Jim had been a little Bones and Spock deprived for the better of two days and the heat had got him thinking about dry summers in Iowa. What better way to brighten up his exhausted crew’s routine than with a mandatory water gun fight? Best idea of the month. Hands down.

Jim had also predicted that Bones would not appreciate his sentiment as much as the other crewmembers. He had anticipated the grumpy snarling as Bones was handed his water gun and stalked off glaring daggers at Jim over his shoulder. Spock had simply lifted an eyebrow and stood beside him as the crew prepared for the two hour battle royal.

“Alright, you guys. Let the battle commence! Anyone who gets Doctor McCoy wet is off rotation for double shifts for two weeks! Have at it!” Jim announces over the speaker system. Spock turns to him, eyebrow almost to his hairline.

“Do you believe that that was the best course of action, Jim?” Spock says. Jim grins as the two walk away from the three women who’d volunteered to man the bridge during the battle. They’d been docked at a trading post for the past day and a half so no extreme threat loomed on the horizon, but better safe than sorry.

“Absolutely! How else would Bones participate? He’d hole himself up somewhere and wait the battle out otherwise,” Jim says as they reach the doors. Spock nods his head in acquiescence.

“Quite probable, Jim. The chances of Leonard’s participation in this ‘battle royal’ have increased from ten point three zero four percent to eighty eight point nine six percent and are increasing by the minute,” Spock’s lip twitches upward as he hoists his gun up. Jim smiles and bumps his shoulder lightly.

“See? I told you so,” Jim says.

“Yes, however, you failed to predict that the possibility of you ‘getting any’ from Leonard in the next week were inversely affected by this course of action,” Spock’s eyes flash with amusement. “I do believe that Leonard will be less than pleased by the time we are in his presence.” Jim gapes at Spock as the doors slide open and they are thrown into the chaotic melee of the water gun fight.

In hindsight, Jim should have taken that into consideration, but as he enters the mess hall with Spock and his senior crew on his heels the thought of getting laid was the farthest thing from his mind.

He had run into Scotty and Chekov blasting it out with Sulu and Uhura rather quickly. The ensuing water fight had been _epic_ , but Jim wanted to find Bones before the end of this. He had to get one shot in at least before he lost his chance for the next millennia. Finding Keenser atop a cabinet in a common room spraying a modified water gun at Chapel and M’Benga had been hilarious as Scotty attempted to get the wee man down from there, dammit! But, nonetheless, his crew had gone sprinting around the Enterprise in search of Doctor McCoy who was eerily absent from every place they’d thought to check.

When they’d slid past a group of crewmen slumped on the floor of a hallway leading to the mess hall, Jim’s oh-holy-shit-Bones-is-pissed signals were tingling. He’d practically interrogated the paralyzed crewmen into telling him that Doctor McCoy was not a man to be messed with when he was angry and toting a gun that he’d added a semi-paralysis mixture to. They’d directed him to the mess hall—of all places Bones would _not_ have gone there willingly. It was pure chaos when Spock and Jim had passed by the open doors before. Engineers had stacked the tables as high as possible and were playing a much more intense version of King of the Mountain.

“A goddamn health hazard is what it is,” Jim could hear Bones grumble as he watched engineers stumble and fall from three stacked tables onto the very hard very unforgiving floor. Many of them would be in sickbay to get their ears chewed off, but no one seemed to be injured badly. Yet.

So when Jim skids into the mess hall, senior crew at his back all dripping wet from head to toe, he does not expect to see—to his utter delight—Bones up on the top of the tables scowling vehemently at the body-littered floor of the mess.

“You imbeciles need more defensive and offensive training if _I_ can incapacitate y’all without a drop of water on me,” Bones grinds out. And here is the predicament. Bones is, in fact, dressed in his science blues without any liquid clinging to his hair or clothing, and Jim has mixed feelings about whether or not he should slowly back away before Bones turns his frankly manic glare on him.

“Jim! You blasted buffoon! What in tarnation did ya think ya were doin’ sickin’ the dogs on me?” Bones yells from his perch. Too late for retreat then. Jim smiles up at the irate man.

“Aw, Bones, look at this. You’re actively participating in my ‘hooligan shenanigans!’ I’m touched!” Jim calls as he picks his way closer to the stack of tables. Before he can move more than five steps closer, Bones has his gun trained on him.

“Take one more step, and I will shoot you, dammit,” Bones growls. Jim snickers.

“Doctor, the likelihood of your shot hitting the Captain at this distance is thirteen point two five percent,” Spock announces. Bones turns his gun on him and fires without warning or mercy. A stream of water stronger than any of them have been expecting flies at them and Spock barely manages to get out of the way. Uhura and Sulu are not so lucky.

“What the hell, Doc? How’d you modify the gun?” Sulu calls from his position on the floor by Uhura. The paralysis concoction works fast. Bones chuckles maliciously.

“Let’s just say I traded Keenser a bottle of Saurian brandy for the first gun he’d modified,” McCoy says. Scotty gasps theatrically.

“Supplyin’ the enemy, wee man? ‘Ow could ye?” Scotty says. Keenser shrugs and fires back at McCoy. Bones moves out of the way and fires back, half his spray hitting M’Benga.

“You’re so going to get it when I can feel my hands again, McCoy,” M’benga growls as he shoots at Bones on his dissent to the floor. McCoy cackles.

“All’s fair in love and war, darlin’,” Bones says. Scotty lets out a war cry as he and Keenser zigzag their way towards the mountain of tables. Bones doesn’t spare them much time as they try to hit him. He rolls onto the top of the table and fires off two long streams of water. Direct hits.

Scotty sighs as he looks at Keenser sprawled on the floor next to him. “Remind me nae ta pick a fight wit ‘im any time soon, wee man,” Scotty grumbles. Keenser rolls his eyes.

“Well, Spock, Chapel. I guess it’s up to us,” Jim says. He glances around for a decent pile of ensigns to dive behind before he launchs himself forward, a spray of water following in his wake. Spock has managed to find cover behind an overturned table with Chapel. Jim signals for them to overlap as they dive for their next cover. Both he and Spock make it safely, but Chapel’s caught the back end of a lucky shot. She grumbles.

“You could’ve let me at least get to a comfortable position first, Len,” she calls. Bones laughs.

“Let you? Never. You’re one of the last people I’d want to face in a firefight, hun,” Bones drawls as he idly rolls onto his back. Jim cocks his head up at him. Now he’s either getting cocky or he’s just giving in to his fate of facing Jim and Spock’s combined awesomeness. It’s probably the latter. Jim springs from his hiding spot and levels a thick stream of water at Bones. The man doesn’t even move and just shoots off what seems to be a random stream of water at the ceiling. Jim watches its trajectory and snickers as Spock scuttles away from the attack. Smart man.

“Well now, Bones, I’m starting to think you actually paid attention to my rants about strategy,” Jim says as he turns to look back up at Bones. “I’m almost touched by the sentim—,” Jim sputters as water hits him directly in the face, and his cheeks go numb. Fuck. Rule number three: never underestimate the enemy.

“I’m a tad bit offended that you thought a boy from Georgia didn’t know how to handle himself in a water gun fight,” Bones says as he zeros in on Spock. “I mean really, Jim? This was almost the most popular pastime in the summer, after o’ course cow tippin’,” McCoy says. His drawl has made his usually sarcastic comments drip with amusement.

“Doctor, please desist your attack. A truce is the most logical solution to our current predicament, and it is the most beneficial to all parties involved now that the captain is incapacitated,” Spock attempts to placate, gun still raised and ready to fire.

“Uh-uh. Not working on me, darlin’. I’m finishing this how I started it: locked and loaded,” Bones says and sniggers. “Bones dry.” Jim snorts from his vantage point on the floor. If he had the capability to move more than his eyelids and tongue at the moment he would have laughed his ass off.

Spock tilts his head a few degrees to the left and blinks twice. That’s all it takes for Bones to pull the trigger three times, covering the entire space where Spock could have leapt out of the way in his special blend of stay-down-dammit juice. Spock is slightly startled by the display of tactile firing as he slumps to the ground, immobilized. McCoy laughs and swings the gun up to his shoulder.

“I believe that I have won, Jimmy,” Bones titters, giddy with adrenaline. “I’m bone dry and there ain’t nothin’ y’all can do about it!” Bones smirks down at the crew on the ground until he here’s a slight clack behind him. He sobers immediately. Fucking fuck, who’d he miss? Who’s on his feet again?

“Doktor, I am terribly sorry about zis, but ze keptin has specified a particular interest in seeing you drenched,” Chekov’s voice floats past his ear. McCoy sighs and straightens up. He feels the telltale plastic muzzle against the back of his head and curses the little Russian whiz kid.

“Ya know, I wanted to make this nice and simple. But you’re leaving me no choice, aren’t you?” McCoy sighs. He glances over his shoulder at Chekov’s stony expression. The kid’s eyebrow is quivering like his face isn’t used to being in a stern scowl. McCoy grins.

“I will give you points for stealth, but c’mon, Chekov. This ain’t my first rodeo,” McCoy smiles sweetly and Chekov’s finger twitches on the trigger. McCoy holds his breath for three seconds exactly before winking at Chekov. It’s all that he needs to do before Chekov’s resolve breaks and he pulls the trigger. McCoy has already slammed the heel of his palm into the muzzle so it shoots effortlessly past McCoy’s ear, a soft spray of water landing on his cheek as he twists away with Chekov’s gun and points both weapons at the boy. He smiles down at the ensign and almost misses the curse that Chekov mutters under his breath as his cheeks puff out.

“I hate to do this, kid. I really do. But, there’s two minutes left of this codswallop an’ I’d really like to stay dry,” Bones shrugs unapologetically. Chekov nods his acknowledgement before slumping down on the table, numb from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. Bones makes his way down his mountain of tables over towards Jim.

“You bastard. I don’t know why I even put up with you,” Bones says. Jim’s smile is lopsided because he can only feel half of his face.

“Buth you loaf mne anyay,” Jim mumbles. Bones cocks his head to the side and pretends to consider his words before snorting and shaking his head. It’s so like Bones that Jim can’t help but stare up at him. This is the man who always stands by him, who always tries his best to follow his heart, who always treats every patient with the same care and grumpy concern, who Jim thinks he has figured out but somehow still manages to surprise him, who always is the glue that makes the relationship between Spock and them work.

“I do love you,” Bones says. “Most of the time.”

“Can this wait until you’re back in your quarters? I don’t need a front row seat to your mushy-gushy love life,” Chapel groans.

“I second that,” Sulu’s arm flops against an overturned table in a mostly-numb imitation of a raised hand. Bones laughs, cheeks pink from adrenaline and embarrassment. Jim’s smile broadens. He is so the best boyfriend. Ever.

“Doctor, to use one of your many colloquialisms, I believe you should not count your chickens before they hatch,” Spock’s voice carries from behind Bones’s head before a massive burst of water cascades over him. Jim is almost shocked into silence before laughter burbles out of his throat. He’s revising that statement: Spock is the best boyfriend ever. In all the galaxy. McCoy squawks indignantly before whirling on his heel to face the equally dripping Vulcan. Jim can feel tears pricking at his eyes. This was so worth it.

McCoy is growling and wiping his face as Spock blinks water out of his eyelashes, usual bowl cut sticking up in cowlicks and plastered to his forehead. Bones resembles a wet cat with all his shaking and hissing, and Jim can’t help the loud laughter racking his frame.

“You damn hobgoblin! I shoulda known that your damn metabolism woulda burned through the drug faster than a jackrabbit!” Bones glowers in Spock’s face. Spock’s eyebrow raises, and his lips twitch.

“Of course, Doctor. My superior immune system can process many simple drugs two point five two times faster. It is only logical that this be taken into account when assuming victory,” Spock could be snickering his tone is so dark and silky. Bones rubs his wet hair angrily.

“I had less than a minute left,” Bones begins.

“Thirty seven point three six seconds to be exact,” Spock interjects. Bones almost throttles him.

“I’m goin’ back to my quarters. I don’t want to see either of you in the next twenty four hours, ya hear?” Bones points at both of them as he turns and stalks out of the room. Jim is cackling. Spock leans over slightly as Jim’s laughter subsides into giggles.

“I think I can feel my face now,” Jim says. “This was so worth not getting into Bones’s pants for a week.”

“My calculations have changed due to unforeseen circumstances. I predict that we will both be in the proverbial ‘dog house’ for thirteen days,” Spock says. Jim almost gasps in mock outrage, but a water droplet drips from the tip of Spock’s nose, and Jim is reduced to helpless giggles once again. He loves his crew. He will _never_ regret this decision. Never.

* * *

 

“C’mon, Bones! It’s been almost a month! How can you _still_ be angry at me?”

“I’m not angry. I’m stewing.”

“Bones, I swear to god, I will hack your door!”

“Try it. I will use you as a pin cushion for more hyposprays than you can count.”

“Bones, I wasn’t even the one who got you wet in the end!”

“Yeah, and that jackass is not challenging his punishment.”

“Incorrect, Leonard. I, too, wish to spend an evening in your presence preferably in the near future.”

“Tough shit.”

“This is illogical, Leonard. This period of absence is overcompensating for the perceived wrong doing.”

“Yeah? Well, as illogical as it might be, I think I’ll keep up my strike considering it is the illogical thing to do!”

“Dammit, Bones!”

Jim could rip his hair out, but he most certainly did _not_ regret his decision. Nope. Not one bit.


End file.
